Tourniquet
by Moderndaydrifter
Summary: Gary falls victim to an unexplained kidnapping. Chuck and Marissa race against time to save him with no clues or help. Gary doesn't know it, but he's in for the fight of his life.


Gary stared out the window of his hotel room, frowning at the fact that the snow was falling heavier by the moment. The cold air could be felt through the glass as it blasted around the high rise building. It was going to be a long, soggy day, and he could only hope that the news would be slow. He hadn't taken a look at the Chicago-Sun Times yet, and was dreading it. He hoped that maybe if he put it off, the articles would somehow rewrite themselves without his own intervention.

He took a long sip of coffee and skimmed the main news story. Something about a politician making a presence in Chicago. He rolled his eyes and moved his eyes to a smaller header to the left.

_Five Car Pileup On The Kennedy Injures Two, Kills Infant_

Gary felt his pulse quicken. Even if the event didn't happen for a few more hours, he still needed to get down there. Grabbing his leather coat, he downed the remnants of his coffee and shoved the paper under his left arm, gripping the doorknob tightly.

Before he even got through the threshold he felt something heavy impact his head, and his body fell hard to the floor. Warmth flowed down into his eyes and he tried to look up to see what had happened, but another blow to his stomach made him ball up into the fetal position as pain shot through his entire body. Stars erupted in his vision, and everything around him grew blurry. He could hear talking, but it was jumbled and quick, so he couldn't make out what was being said.

He tried crawling, but felt a hand grip the collar of his coat, sliding him across the wooden floor. He gritted his teeth and tried to get away, but the tight grasp was too much for him. "You guys want my wallet? I have.." A final strike to his head made his eyesight grow black.

* * *

A musty smell was the first thing he noticed. Aside from his pounding headache, the smell was probably the most miserable thing he had ever experienced. His wrists felt raw as if something had been continuously rubbed against them, and he could tell that they were tied together with rope.

The repetitive sound of water dripping echoed somewhere behind him, and he tried to look but it was pitch black. He squinted, fighting off a dizzy spell. Shifting his weight was a bad idea. From what he could make out, he was lying down, his arms tied behind his back, and his legs were sprawled out before him. It felt like every bone in his body was broken, and he winced when he tried to move into a less awkward position. His arms had gone numb and the dead sensation in his limbs made it impossible for him to do much of anything.

To make matters worse, he was shivering. His teeth clattered together and he tried to scrunch up in a ball. He wasn't sure where his coat had gone, but he could only feel a T-shirt on the upper half of his body. From what he remembered, the city was being covered in a thick blanket of snow the last time he had seen daylight.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard a door slam open and shut, and the faint sound of voices growing closer to him.

* * *

Chuck sat at the small table of the coffee shop, eyeing Marissa from across his plate of pancakes. It was 8:30 and Gary still had yet to show up.

"What time did he say he'd be here?" Chuck glanced at his watch, trying not to be impatient. "I want to get a look at tomorrow's stocks before it's too late to do anything about it."

Marissa nodded her head and sipped on her mug of hot chocolate. "Oh Chuck, you know Gary won't show you that anyway." She paused, and Chuck had a hard time reading her body language. "He said he would be here around eight. What time is it?"

"It's now 8:35. The man's probably out saving some ducks from getting pummeled as they cross the street." Chuck leaned back in his chair. Though he would never admit it out loud, he was worried about Gary. It wasn't like him to be late, and if he were he would call. He fumbled with his napkin before balling it up in his fist, thankful that Marissa couldn't see that he was concerned, though she probably could pick it up in his voice.

Marissa grabbed Spike's harness and made her way towards the exit. Chuck stared at her for a moment. "Where are you going?"

"To his apartment. Maybe he forgot."

Chuck stood up and opened the door for her. The walk to his apartment seemed longer than usual, and he knew it was because they were walking through about a half-foot of snow. His toes were soaking wet and his temper flared. Nothing was worse than wet socks.

"If Gary is sound asleep in his bed I'm going to kill him." He clenched his jaw as they entered the building, though he knew that wasn't the case. Gary hardly ever slept past 6:30. That's when the cat and the newspaper had arrived, no exceptions.

They made it up to his floor, and Chuck knocked on the door to his room twice and got no response. Rapping his fist against the wood once more, he decided to try the doorknob. It opened with no problem, which made Chuck's stomach sink low. That was another clue that things weren't normal. Gary never left the door unlocked. He took note to a few things strung out on the floor in the entryway.

"What's wrong Chuck? I heard you gasp." Marissa waited beside him, and for a split second he had forgotten that she couldn't see that the hotel room was trashed, especially for Gary's standards.

He glanced down at their feet, seeing what he thought were a few blood spots. It didn't seem right to him. Gary didn't call and his apartment was a mess. His instincts screamed at him, telling him that Gary was in danger.

"Marissa, I think something has happened to Gary." His words were almost a whisper as his mind raced with the possibilities of where his best friend might be.

* * *

Gary flinched when a sudden light flickered on above him. His eyes took a moment to get used to the sudden change in brightness. His vision finally focused fully, and he saw two men hovering over him, studying him as if he were from a different planet. His instinct was to turn away, but he was restrained so tight that he couldn't even move his face to look away.

"Well hello, Gary Hobson. Just to be in your presence is an honor." The first man spoke up, and right off the bat Gary noticed that the nuisance had a missing front tooth and was in dire need of a shower. "Don't tell me you don't remember me."

Gary arched his eyebrow, unsure of what to say. If he said he remembered the man and didn't say his name he might be attacked again, but if he said he didn't remember him it could be just as ugly.

"Did we injure your voice box back there?" The second man spoke up, and Gary could tell that the men were more than likely related. He was so scared and hoped that it wasn't obvious to the two kidnappers.

The first man stood erect, kicking at Gary, making him flinch. "I guess if he doesn't remember us, we don't need to tell him _why _we are honored to be breathing the same air as him, do we Davis?"

Gary made a mental note that the smaller man's name was Davis. His headache was accentuated from the overhead light, and he closed his eyes for a split second to try and feel some relief. He felt a finger probe at his face, and his lids jolted open, seeing that Davis was at eye-level with him, his breath warm and heavy on Gary's skin.

"If I were you I'd sleep with one eye open." Davis reared back and slammed his fist into Gary's left cheek, sending his head back hard against the concrete beneath him. A loud crack echoed and it took Gary a few seconds to become coherent again. He could feel the blood pouring from his face, and a few drops trickled down to his lips.

Davis motioned towards his partner, holding his hand out as he kept his eyes on Gary. "Chase, get me the syringe."

Gary swallowed what little saliva he had in his mouth. _The syringe?_ He began to move his arms up and down in hope to get his wrists free from the rope. The friction of the twine on his skin rubbed him raw, and he let out a low groan of pain, his movements becoming frantic as Chase handed Davis the syringe that was filled with God knows what.

"You might as well give up the fight, Gary. You aren't going anywhere." Davis grinned at him, exposing his rotted teeth. "Besides, what we are about to give you will do wonders. You'll be begging for it later on."

Gary tried kicking at him, but he had very little energy and his leg barely lifted off of the floor. The thought of whatever he was about to be injected with terrified him.

"After we give him this we gotta keep a close watch. There's no telling how he'll react. Just remember your first time, Davis. You were a madman." Chase knelt down on the other side of Gary, his hands coming down hard on Gary's shoulders to keep him still.

Davis smirked and lifted Gary's arm, sticking the needle in his vein in the crook of his elbow. Gary felt the sharp sting and a slight burning sensation as they emptied the contents of the syringe into his system. He would have let out a yell of some sort but Chase's hand covered his mouth, and he could taste the salty surface of his skin on his lips.

"Don't worry Gary, here in a few minutes you are going to be in good company. You have just been injected with heroin."

* * *

Chuck was out of options. He needed some form of clue to point him in the right direction. Maybe Marissa had something up her sleeve, she was always the level-headed one in tense situations. "Any ideas, Marissa?"

They were standing on the front steps of the twenty-third precinct, both clueless. Marissa shrugged, her lips pursed as she contemplated Chuck's question. "We could go inside and possibly report Gary missing?"

Chuck nodded and led her through the entrance. He stopped at the front kiosk, finding that missing persons was on the second floor. The officer on duty didn't look up from his paperwork as he and Marissa approached him.

"We need to report someone missing."

The cop held his hand up, continuing to jot notes down on paper. "Name?"

Chuck fidgeted. "My name or the missing person?"

That comment finally got the officer to look up. "The name of the missing." His tone was sharp and it pissed Chuck off.

"Hobson. Gary Hobson."

"What makes you think this Hobson guy is missing?"

"He was supposed to meet us for breakfast this morn…"

The cop cut him off, a smirk erupting on his face. "This morning? Come back in twenty-four hours. There's nothing we can do about it right now. Maybe he's at home, sleeping."

Chuck ran his hands through his hair, despising the authority figure. "That's just it, we went to his home and he's not there. It looked like there was an altercation."

The officer rose from his chair and placed his hands on the counter. "Altercation? You let the law be the judge of that. Look, sir, we can't jump the gun on something like this and find out that the guy took a vacation over in Michigan, okay? Come back in twenty-four hours, that's all I can do for you right now."

Chuck wanted to reach out and choke the guy, but he felt Marissa's hand grab at him, and she pulled him back towards the elevator. "Come on, Chuck. We are wasting our time here."

"What are we supposed to do now?" He noticed that desperation had filled his voice.

"I guess we try and find him ourselves."

* * *

Gary had never felt the rush of feelings that hit him blindside, not long after the poison was injected into his veins. His arms and legs grew numb and his head felt as if it were floating above his shoulders. He had spaced the fact that he was in a dangerous situation from the sense of euphoria that engulfed his senses. He let out a small laugh, looking up at the two men whose names escaped him.

"Well looky here, Chase, I think he likes it." Davis hovered over him, and to Gary his words came out in echoes. "You like that? I bet you are feeling mighty fine at the moment."

Gary swallowed hard, noticing that his mouth had gotten really dry. He licked his lips, but no moisture came off of his tongue. He grew excited, and he tried to pull out of the ropes that restrained him, his legs kicking out as a sudden surge of energy allowed him to move freely.

"Better tie his legs up too. We don't want him escaping. My first time made me feel like I could run ten miles." Chase threw another line of rope down, slapping Gary in the face with the twine. If he wasn't high off of the heroin it probably would have been painful, but he didn't even feel it touch his skin.

He lay still, letting Davis restrain his legs. He didn't care what was happening, he couldn't get over how good he was feeling. Every worry in his mind had faded away, and someone could come tell him his mother was dead and it wouldn't phase him.

He stared up at the light that strobed over him, focusing on the small metal bars that held the light bulb in. The presence of Davis and Chase slipped his mind, and he began to float into his own personal world of bliss and ecstasy. He knew the men were speaking to him, but he blocked out their words and enjoyed the sensations that crept through his mind.

"There there, Gary. Here in a little bit you won't feel so good." Chase swatted his cheek. "That will be the fun part, hearing you beg for more."

Gary grinned at him, rolling his eyes to the back of his head, shutting his eyelids. The future was not something he was contemplating at the moment.

* * *

"I need to sit down for a moment, Chuck. And Spike needs some water." Chuck watched as Marissa rested on a park bench, her hands rubbing the heels of her feet. They had been searching high and low for almost five hours and still there were no clues or signs of where Gary could be.

"There's a pond up here." Chuck gripped the German Shepherd's harness, guiding him to the small body of water. His eyes scanned every person that jogged by. To him, everyone was a suspect. Who could have taken Gary, and why? He could only hope that he was still alive, and if he was, hopefully he wasn't suffering too much.

The high Gary experienced quickly came and went. He could feel sweat pour from his brow, trickling down to his eyes. The burning sensation made him wince, and the cottonmouth made his throat feel as if it were cracked like the surface of rain deprived dirt. He had forgotten about the recent injuries his body had endured, but the soreness in his muscles was a quick reminder.

Davis was nowhere in sight, but Chase was sitting across the room in a wooden chair, his back facing Gary. Gary tried wrestling out of his restraints again, but Davis had tied him in so tight that the bind only dug deeper into his wrists and ankles. If he continued to try and free himself the rope was sure to tear right through to his bone.

He realized that he wasn't tied to anything, just lying free on the floor, so his next idea was to try and roll away from Chase. He shifted his weight, rolling to his stomach. The cold chill of the floor was refreshing, and he leaned his forehead on it for a moment for some comfort. He didn't understand how before he was freezing, and now he felt like he had got done running a marathon.

Kicking his legs, he felt his feet impact something behind him, and a loud clatter of metal shot through the room. He felt the tight grip of fingertips on his neck, and smelled the heavy scent of Chase's breath upon him.

"Where you going, Hobson? The party has just begun. Don't expect to knock a table over and get away with it."

He kicked at Gary's side, sending a sharp pain through his midsection. Chase then clutched the back of Gary's shirt, pulling him back to his original position.

"Uhh.." Gary closed his eyes tightly, hoping he'd wake up from this nightmare. "What…do you want?" He fought to spit the words out, and it took every ounce of him to say the little that he did. His throat hurt so bad from dehydration. His eyes remained closed, and he could only imagine what Chase was doing.

"Want some more?"

Gary looked at him, seeing the familiar syringe being waved in front of him. Just from common knowledge he knew that just after a few doses of heroin a person could get addicted so he turned away, shaking his head no. "Please, I don't want that."

"This is beyond what you want." Chase knelt down, grabbing the same arm that had been injected previously. Gary tried jerking away, but Chase's clasp on him was too strong. The needle slid into his vein, and he could feel more of the drug flowing into him. He gritted his teeth. Maybe with his next high he could find a way to breakout.

It didn't take long for him to feel the effects again, and his mind went blank, as he became a worthless, limp body on the cold concrete surface.

* * *

Chuck hated to do it but he needed to get some sleep. He was surprised to wake up the next morning at around 7:30. With all of the worry on his mind it was amazing that he had slept through the night.

His phone rang near his head, and he fumbled through the mess on the end table, finding it under two Playboy magazines.

"Hello?"

"Chuck, its Marissa. The cat delivered the paper to my house. Want to come over here and see if it says anything about Gary?"

He sat up. What if it had an article about him being dead? 'Don't think like that, Chuck.' He found his shoes on the floor, putting them on as he hopped on one leg towards the door. "I'll be there in ten."

When he got there he didn't even say two words to Marissa as he skimmed through every page of the paper. Not a mention of him. Not one word. He slumped low on the couch, leery to go to the police. It had been twenty-four hours, and at least with more manpower they could hopefully cover more ground. After they were treated yesterday he was hesitant, but Marissa had convinced him. Leave it to the professionals, they at least had criminal profiles and methods to start from scratch with.

* * *

Gary noticed that the highs he was experiencing were fading away quicker than before. His body began to demand that he get more into his system. He was no expert of heroin, but he knew about the withdrawals that people experienced, even after just a few uses. Just what he needed at the moment, his body was already on the verge of shutting down.

His eyes scanned the room, and he couldn't find Davis or Chase anywhere. He was freezing cold, but was tied up in a way that he could not curl up to preserve body heat.

He tried rolling over onto his stomach but his body screamed out in pain. "Damnit!" His voice was deep and raspy as he let out a few groans of desperation. A sudden wave of nausea hit him hard, and he began to retch as his belly contracted in and out. Nothing was in his system however, and the only thing that came up was small amounts of stomach acid, which burned his esophagus. He continued to dry heave, finally getting to his side so if he did vomit anything up it would land beside him.

His legs began to twitch involuntary and panic got the best of him. He had to get out of here, he knew he was experiencing just mild symptoms of withdrawal from the drug, but knew his system needed another hit off of the drug to get him feeling better. More sweat soaked into his shirt, but he was shivering.

"God! Help me!" he yelled out, more gags erupting from the pit of his gut. He closed his eyes, wishing he would just fall asleep. Or better yet, he would be okay with dying at the moment. It would be a much better consolation than what he was endearing. He was never going to get away, especially if they kept hindering his thought process with the heroin.

Panic set in when he heard their footsteps. He didn't want another injection, but at the same time knew that's what his body was craving. Heavy hands pinned his shoulders back up against the floor, and he felt one of them straddle his stomach. It didn't matter if they did that or not, he wasn't going anywhere. He was hurting way too much.

It was Chase on top of him, and Davis sat beside his head, the needle right near his eye.

"Gary, open your eyes all the way. Your veins collapsed in your arm so we are going to have to inject you in your tear duct."

Gary allowed a yelp to escape as sheer terror made his body shimmy underneath the weight of the big man. "No, please! I don't want it."

Davis' hand covered Gary's mouth. "Shh, Gary. You do want it. You _need_ it. Now open wide, I promise it doesn't hurt. I've been taking it this way for years." He turned his head from side to side, but Davis pushed his head hard into the concrete, making his vision grow black for a split second.

Gary's gut reaction was to close his eye, but that wouldn't matter. He could still gain access to the duct. Davis quickly stuck the needle deep into the passage. To his surprise, it didn't hurt as bad as he had imagined, the only uncomfortable twinge was a burning feeling and a dull ache where the needle had punctured the membrane. An instant feeling of relief settled him down, and it became evident to him why heroin was so highly addictive.

* * *

Another day had passed and there was still no sign of Gary. Chuck was glad that the police had finally begun to help, but they really had no basis to go off of either. Maybe the paper would provide them enough information the next day. He just hoped it wouldn't be Gary's obituary.

He grabbed Marissa's hand as they made their way back to her apartment. He knew she didn't want to stop looking, but exhaustion was causing them to make some bad decisions in the search.

"Marissa, we'll find him. Just keep your eyes open for the paper. That will be our indication."

Marissa nodded, guiding Spike to the front door. "I'll call you as soon as it comes, if it does at all. Sometimes it gets moody and doesn't show up." She wiped her nose with a Kleenex. "Get some sleep, we have another long day ahead of us it seems."

"See you in the morning."

He slept all of two hours that night. He had horrible dreams that they had found Gary's body on the shore of Lake Michigan. He didn't even realize that it was a little after 6:30 AM when his phone rang, with Marissa on the other line.

"Chuck, the paper came again."

Racing over to her apartment, he felt some relief when he saw another article with Gary's picture on it, but anxiety took hold when he read the words of the headline.

_Local Man Found Dead in Trunk of Car _

He read the article aloud, his palms growing clammy with each word. "Gary Hobson, recent Chicago stock broker, was found dead in the trunk of a Buick Skylark in the alley off of Fullerton. Police have no leads on suspects." He looked up.

"Does it say if he was dead before he was put in the trunk?" Marissa leaned forward, her brow creased with worry.

"It doesn't say. But we need to get there. Maybe we will find him alive."

* * *

Gary opened his eyes again, realizing he had been asleep, but wasn't sure for how long. His head was pounding and he fought off the urge to puke again. His right eye was a bit sore from the needle prod.

He was surprised to see that Chase had offered him a bottle of water. He opened his mouth and savored the ice-cold liquid as it soaked into his tongue. Chase continued to squeeze the plastic and Gary turned away, trying to catch his breath. He opened his mouth again, but Chase dropped the bottle beside him to tease him. His hands were still tied up so he couldn't gain access to it.

"You ready to get out of here?" Davis grinned, grabbing Gary's ankles.

Chase went to his head, lifting his shoulders up. Gary was confused, and the only thing he could think to say was, "What day is it?"

"It's your dying day, Mr. Hobson. Take a glimpse of Chicago one last time before we shove you into your grave."

Gary squinted as they made their way outside. The cold air nipped at him, cooling him down to his bones. His body was so numb from the pain he had endured that he really couldn't feel much of anything, just the pressure of their grip on him.

"Hurry up and get him in the trunk before someone sees us!" Chase shifted Gary's head, holding the trunk of the car open.

Gary knew it was his last chance to fight them off, but it was like his brain wasn't communicating with any of his bodily functions. His mind said kick and bite with all of your power, but when he tried to do it nothing happened. It was the damn heroin that made his mental functions slow to react, and that was going to be the final nail in the coffin for him.

They shoved his body down into the cramped space. He was face down in the carpet and could smell the exhaust that had saturated the fibers from years of usage. The last thing he felt was a sharp blow to the back of his head, and then darkness overtook him again.

* * *

"You said that the car is on Fullerton?" Two cops followed Chuck and Marissa down the back alley of what looked like a row of old warehouses. "How do you know this?"

Chuck shrugged. Now was not the time to explain the newspaper. His eyes widened when he saw the description of the same car the paper had mentioned and he began an all out sprint towards it. He hoped they weren't too late.

One of the officers grabbed a tool from his belt and opened the trunk with no problem, revealing a confined Gary, his body twisted in every direction. Chuck reached in, trying to feel if he was breathing. His eyes were closed and blood was caked all over his face and head.

"I think I feel a pulse!" The officer grabbed his radio and queued the dispatcher. "We need an ambulance…."

Chuck tuned him out as he stared down at his best friend. He had been dragged through the ringer, and looked to be on the verge of death. Either way, he was glad they had found him, he just hoped it was in time.

* * *

The doctor glanced over Gary's medical chart, looking up to see that his patient was still asleep. He studied the track marks in his arm, and doctored the wounds throughout his body. The rope burns on his wrists and ankles were so deep that they began to tear up several layers of skin, right down to the tissue below it. He wrapped up the chafed areas and turned his attention to the needle holes on his forearm. They had a hard time starting any form of IV on him from the severe dehydration, and they finally had to start a central line to give him the proper fluids he needed.

He couldn't imagine how it felt to have drugs pushed upon someone like Hobson had endured, and his stomach clenched when he saw how it affected him. He usually didn't let his job bother him, but when things turned out as harsh as this it made him hate the human race for doing this to someone.

Glancing at Gary's monitors, he jotted down a few notes. A nurse came in, distracting him from his thoughts.

"He looks to be stable. I'm going to go out and talk to the family." He clipped his pen shut and put it in his coat pocket, nodding at the nurse. "Keep a close eye on him. When he wakes up, he's probably going to demand some drugs. I want to steer clear of morphine right now, that will only heighten the addiction he has developed."

"You got it, Dr. Creed."

He made his way to the ICU waiting room, not sure who his patient's family was. "Is the family of Gary Hobson here?" He waited for a response, and saw a man wave at him. "Are you related to Mr. Hobson?"

The stranger shook his head no. "His parents are out of town. They travel a lot. I'm his friend, Chuck Fishman and this is Marissa. We are pretty much his family."

Dr. Creed stared down at the floor, apprehensive to give out information to people not of kin. "I really don't know if I can give you information then. We have laws I have to watch out for."

He felt the man grip his arm. "Look, Doc, we aren't going to go sell Gary's personal stuff to the black market. You can tell us. If Gary was conscious he'd give you consent, I promise."

The doctor looked down at the lady, noticing that she was blind from the distant gaze she had. "Gary has suffered from a number of injuries. From the examination I gather that he's got a skull fracture on the back of his skull. He's got two broken ribs, one which punctured his left lung. It's a small puncture, and should heal up on its own but we have him on oxygen. He's got a lot of bruises on his face and stomach, but as far as we can tell those haven't caused any major damage. He was extremely dehydrated, but we have him on saline and potassium to help him gain his strength." His gaze fell to the floor. The next part would be hardest to deliver to them. "Was Gary a drug user?"

Mr. Fishman stared at him, not saying anything at first. The comment lingered over their heads for around thirty seconds, and Dr. Creed was relieved to hear him speak again. "A drug user? No! Why would you ask me something like that?"

"He had track marks on his arms. We ran a urine test and it came back positive. I didn't think he was a user either. His physical build is too strong to show long term usage. The down side is, it only takes a few doses of heroin to get someone addicted. Gary's going to be going through some withdrawals, even though this was the first time his system probably had something like that in it."

Hobson's friend sat down hard in the chair at the table they were standing around, burying his head in his hands. "Is Gary going to be okay?"

Dr. Creed shook his head yes. "It will be a long recovery, but yes, he'll be okay."

"Can he have guests?" Finally, the lady spoke up.

"Yes, right now he's asleep but you can go in."

Chuck swallowed hard at the site of him. He looked a little better than when they had found him, but the needle marks on Gary's arms made him want to punch his fist through a wall. Who would do this? Gary had never hurt anyone.

He saw that Gary began to stir, his eyes moving quickly under his lids. The subtle beeps from the monitors grew annoying, and he knew if he were in the bed he'd be worried from every sound they made.

"Chuck, how does he look?" Marissa's voice was a whisper.

"He looks like he's getting better Marissa. That's all I can say."

Slowly but surely, Gary opened his eyes, the green of his irises pale. Chuck gave him a smile, hoping it would ease him. Gary's confused expression worried Chuck, so he decided to say something to help him realize where he was.

"Gary, its Chuck. Marissa is here too. How you feeling man?"

Gary swallowed hard; motioning for the water that was on his bedside. Chuck held the straw to his lips, and watched as Gary drank it down, coughing deeply.

"Where… am I?" He closed his eyes, wincing in pain. "I need…"

'Please don't say heroin,' Chuck thought. "You need something for the pain?"

Gary nodded, not opening his eyes. He scrunched his body up tightly and it was the first glimpse of Gary's wrists that Chuck saw. They were wrapped tightly in gauze, and he figured that it was probably from the ropes that they had found on him.

Chuck looked out of the curtain, motioning for a nurse. "I think he's needing something for pain."

Gary was so uncomfortable, but could admit that the hospital bed was much more relaxing than the concrete floor he had laid on for however long it was he had been kidnapped. He saw Chuck re-enter, as well as a nurse. He caught glimpse of the syringe in her fingers, and panic settled in. He tried pushing her away, causing a bedpan to fall to the floor. The echo of the plastic hitting made his heart skip, and he gripped her arms tightly to get her away from him.

"No! I don't want it! Please, don't give me that!" His voice cracked and visions of Chase and Davis flooded his memory. More people came in to hold him down and he fought as hard as he could, but his body was still hurting so badly that he had to give up and fall limp under everyone.

"Gary, this is something to help the pain. I'm not going to hurt you." The nurse grabbed his IV port and inserted the needle. "We are here to help you."

He clamped his mouth shut, staring at the crowd he attracted. Why was everyone looking at him like that? Was he a sideshow freak in the hospital that everyone had to check out? His vision blurred, and exhaustion allowed him to drift into a light sleep, making him forget that Chuck and Marissa were there with him.

* * *

"Gary? Gary, can you hear me?"

Gary heard a voice over him, but it seemed like it was in a far off tunnel.

"Gary, can you wake up for me?"

He fought the drowsiness and saw a man in a white coat sitting near him. He guessed it was a doctor from the way he presented himself. He said nothing, hoping the doctor would break the ice between them.

"I bet you are wanting some answers." The stranger paused, now getting to a standing position. "Are you up for a chat?"

Gary nodded, stretching his muscles in his legs. It felt so good to do that after being in a closed in spot for song long.

The doctor went over all of his injuries, from his punctured lung to his concussion. Gary listened, trying to focus as best as he could. A lot of it came out in medical mumble jumble, but what really caught his attention were words like _addiction _and _heroin._ He could remember bits and pieces of what had happened to him but didn't realize the extent of the usage.

"You have already gone through the hardest part of your withdrawal, but I want you to be aware of the implications of heroin. The bad news is, you'll hear many people say that once you are addicted, you are always addicted."

Gary stared at him, trying to keep a blank expression on his face. He didn't want to show that this scared him more than any physical injury ever would. As if managing the paper wasn't enough, he would have to deal the temptations of wanting heroin. He had seen many junkies in his time, and never wanted to become one himself. This wasn't his choice, which made his temper flare even more. "How can I avoid the temptations?"

"Strong willpower. Over time you'll think you forgot about it, but there will be times that you will get a craving. This is why you hear about so many people trying to kick the habit, but they have relapses."

Gary saw Marissa enter, and he felt a little embarrassed even though she couldn't literally see him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" She stood at the opening of the curtain, not fully coming in.

"No, I was just giving Gary here a little heads up on his condition. Come on in, I'll leave you two alone." He turned to Gary. "I'll be back in a little bit. You guys take your time."

"Thank you, Dr. Creed." Marissa sat down, and Gary could tell she was searching for his hand. He grabbed hold of it and squeezed, trying to show her that he was glad she was there even though it was awkward to him. "So, what did he have to say?" She unraveled her scarf from her neck, placing it on the chair beside her.

He fought a tear that began to form on the corner of his eye, ignoring her question at first. "Marissa, why did this happen? What did I do to deserve this?"

He felt her fingers intertwine with his. Her presence made him feel stronger, but he was still hurting on the inside. "I don't know Gary. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and we never get an explanation. Just try and remember that this will make you stronger. You are a good man, and you didn't do anything to deserve it."

His free hand gripped the railing of the hospital bed and his mind raced with his future struggles he would embark on. "He said that once a person experiences heroin, they get cravings the rest of their life." He bit his bottom lip hard; hoping his inner fight would be stronger than the want and need for the dangerous drug. "How am I supposed to get over this, Marissa?" His voice was shaky, and he couldn't fight the sadness any longer.

"I'll be here to help you Gary, every step of the way. Time heals all wounds." Funny how sometimes cliches really did ring true.

He stared out the window adjacent to his bed, still holding on to her hand. If it wasn't for Chuck and Marissa he would be dead in the trunk of a car for God knows how long before someone had found him.

"Thank you Marissa." His voice was a whisper. "I just want to know _why?"_


End file.
